


New Kid on the Block

by TechnicolorVocab01



Series: The Miles Chronicles [1]
Category: Spider-Man - All Media Types, Spider-Man: Into the Spider-Verse (2018)
Genre: Fighting Crime, Gen, POV Outsider, but also kind of terrifying, don't mess with him, he's very small, my boy out there, takes place some time after the movie
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-24
Updated: 2018-12-24
Packaged: 2019-09-25 19:46:42
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,006
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17127602
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TechnicolorVocab01/pseuds/TechnicolorVocab01
Summary: With Spider-Man gone, I found it just a bit easier to tell Reed ‘yes’ when he came asking about the Russel Bank deal again. I didn't think that I'd be meeting his successor on the way out.





	New Kid on the Block

**Author's Note:**

> I guess I'll try a Spiderverse fic. I had a lot of fun with this one (I'm a sucker for outsider pov). Hope you like!

With Spider-Man gone, I found it just a bit easier to tell Reed ‘yes’ when he came asking about the Russel Bank deal again.

“Easiest shake-down we’ll ever have,” he’d said, slamming duffel bags full of semi’s on the table between us. I stared down at them nervously. “The place is still in repair after those crazy earthquakes two weeks ago. We go in at night-- I’ve got a guy that can disable the cameras for us. Two guards are on shift, but with these bad boys,” Reed grabbed a particularly ferocious looking gun from the pile, “they shouldn’t be a problem. We’ll be in and out, ten minutes.”

I carefully picked up a gun myself, weighing it cautiously between my hands. “I don’t know, man. I’m not looking for anything that’ll get me in for a murder charge, I can’t afford to go in for that.”

Reed scoffed like he had something lodged in his throat, then sauntered over to my side of the table and swung an arm over my shoulder. It wasn’t particularly amiable. “Look, if all goes right, those guards won’t even know we’re there, alright? Stop being a fuckin’ pansy about it.”

I looked down at the gun in my hand, thought back to my shitty apartment in the shittiest part of New York possible. I thought of my ex, halfway across the fucking country and still waiting on that child support. My son is twelve now, and he’d only ever interacted with me through Skype and biannual phone calls.

So what more was there to say except, “Okay.”

**oOo**

“Jesus  _ fuck _ , just get as much as you can,” Reed was stuffing wads of money into his duffel like his life depended on it. He sounded giddy, though, and I almost felt the same. This was even easier than I thought it would be. “The guard will pass by in two minutes, just get  _ as much as you can _ .”

“Yeah, yeah, Christ, I  _ got _ it,” I hiss back, and each neatly stacked thousand I get into my duffel feels like the first victory I’ve had in a long time. I might be able to afford a trip before my kid turns thirteen.

“You good?” Reed asks, muffled by the black balaclava pulled over his face. His bag is full to bursting, bright green bills caught in the zipper.

I fit two last stacks into my own duffel before closing it, too. “Yeah, I’m good. Let’s just get the hell out of here.”

We go to exit the vault, but Reed grabs my arm at the last minute and lifts a finger for silence. I freeze. Loud, clunky footsteps sound from outside the vault door-- the heavy tread of guard’s boots. Shit,  _ shit _ , we’d taken too long, or the guard was early in his rounds, but either way we were absolutely  _ fucked _ . 

I hurry to duck against the wall on one side of the door, Reed to the other. The guard has no reason to open the vault. If we stay quiet enough, he should just pass by. I’m barely breathing, saliva pooling in my mouth as I refuse to even swallow, as if even that much noise would alert the guard to their position. There’s a tiny  _ click _ sound from my left, and I look to Reed to see him lifting his gun, having already thumbed off the safety. 

I reach across the closed doorway to grab the barrel and push it downward, trying to communicate just how generally  _ fucking terrible _ an idea it was to gun down this guard. I’d rather risk getting caught stealing than kill someone and still get caught later. The PDNY doesn’t fuck around with murder cases-- I don’t trust mine or Reed’s skills enough to get us out of that massive mess.

Reed gives me a seething glare, but doesn’t make any more moves, and the guard’s footsteps get quieter as he gets further away. All in all, it was pretty anticlimactic. I give Reed a smug look, and thankfully he’s too relieved to do any more than glare fiercer in response. 

“Com'on, let’s go,” he hisses, and I agree wholeheartedly. I just want this job to be over.

We duck out of the vault, closing the door behind us, careful to keep it from making any noise. We exit the back way, which spills out into an alleyway damp from the earlier rain and speckled with trash and fire escapes. 

“Oh, thank hell,” I whisper fervently, and Reed scoffs from his place beside me. I know he’s used to this kind of stuff, but I was mostly just glad the worst of it was over. 

Suddenly, the sleepy alleyway bursts into motion, and the precious duffel bag is ripped from my shoulder, and Reed curses as his own is likewise taken away with…. Wait. 

Oh god. Oh shit. Those are  _ webs _ . The thin, almost translucent strands pull the bags up and into the ready hand of a dark figure three quarters of the way up the brick alley wall, where it sticks, crouching in waiting like a huge fucking  _ spider _ . “Hey, didn’t anyone ever tell you it’s not nice to take things that don’t belong to you?”

Even Reed has stopped swearing. I stare up at  _ Spider-Man _ , except it’s not Spider-Man. This guy has a dark costume, which is why we hadn’t seen him stuck up there until now, with giant, opaque white bug-eyes, much like his predecessor. 

“What about the new guy?” I had asked Reed, back when we were still in the planning stages of our heist. “I’ve heard that there’s a new Spider-Man out there. He’s the one that caught Kingpin, remember?”

Reed had just scoffed. “Please, that guy is just a fake. He wanted the thrill, and he got it. There’s no way he’s going to care about some bank robbery in Queens.”

_ Fuck you, Reed _ , I think as Spider-Man adheres the money bags to the wall with a quick burst of webs from his wrist.  _ Fuck you so much _ .

Reed, in all of his genius, shouts up at Spider-Man, “What the hell are you doing here?”

What do you  _ think _ he’s doing here, dumbass?

Spider-Man tilts his head, bug-eyes narrowing like he’s thinking the same thing. “I’m here to stop a bank robbery, obviously.”

And then,  _ shit _ , man, it’s a blur. Spider-Man jumps down from the wall and lands in a crouch like the fifteen foot fall didn’t even  _ phase _ him. Reed fumbles with his gun with a curse, and Spider-Man just fucking  _ disappears _ . Like, fizzles out of existence like a ghost. Reed looks frantically around the alleyway.

“Where the  _ fu _ \--” He’s suddenly cut off with a  _ whoosh _ of air as he doubles over. Spider-Man reappears  _ right in front of him _ , grabbing Reed’s gun and kicking him in the chest at the same time, sending Reed flying down the alleyway with the semi still in Spider-Man’s hand as if stuck to his fingers. Spider-Man tosses the gun casually against the wall and webs it there while saying, “Hey, man, watch your language. I’ve heard that positive speech leads to a more positive life, you might want to try it!”

Those reflective eye lenses turn to me now, and I only have time to scramble for my gun before my legs are kicked out from under me. My breath leaves me in a rush as my back hits the unforgiving concrete. “Woah, sorry about that, but I like my insides to stay inside, if you know what I mean.”

God, I’ve heard the stories about Spider-Man’s ever-running mouth, but does this guy ever shut up? His voice was high enough to be grating, if only because he could keep up such a steady stream of quips as he kicked your ass. Spider-Man’s head twitches to the side just before--

“ _ Whoa! _ ” Spider-Man practically  _ squeaks _ as Reed tackles him from behind, having finally recovered from his kick down the alleyway. “Can’t we talk about this? Remember what I said about positive thinking?”

“ _ Fuck _ you!” Reed shouts, probably just to be contrary. Reed is approximately three times the size of this new Spider-Man, but I probably should have known better than to think it would make much of a difference. Reed gets in a few good hits, but Spider-Man somehow plants both feet between them and  _ shoves _ , flipping Reed over his head and into the awaiting concrete. Spider-Man follows him in one easy move, the tables turning very suddenly, and with one good punch from Spider-Man’s obnoxiously tiny fist, Reed is very much out for the count.

Spider-Man huffs, barely out of breath, “Jeez, you’re heavy. Might want to try laying off the donuts, too, man.”

By the time Spider-Man turns around to deal with me, I have my gun out and ready, safety off and pointed right at his head. His eyes widen to planet-sized proportions, and I think I should probably feel smug about that, but I’m mostly just tired and guilt is weighing at me like an anchor at being caught in the act, and all I can think about is how far down I have to tilt the gun barrel in order for it to be level with this Spider-Man’s forehead.

“So, you’re the new Spider-Man, huh?” I have no idea what I’m saying, or why. My head feels vaguely fuzzy. 

Spider-Man slowly straightens up from his defensive crouch, and even at his full height, he’s not even level with my shoulders. I think that maybe, if I had ever met my kid outside of Skype, he might be about this size. He might sound like this Spider-Man as he squeaks, “Uh, yep. That’s me. Friendly neighborhood Spider-Man, that’s. Me.”

My gun wavers. I barely notice. “Wh-what are you doin’ here, kid? Why are you here?”

It seems like the most important question at this moment. Why would some kid be out here at one o’clock in the morning, fighting with thugs like me and Reed, waiting for crime just so that he could stop it.

Spider-Man rocks one tiny step forward, then another. “I’m here because I made a promise. And I intend to keep it.” His head tilts to one side, bug-eyes narrowing in a way that makes me feels scrutinized, like a butterfly pinned to corkboard. “And why are you here?”

I blink, and my arm can’t seem to hold up the weight of the gun anymore. It bumps against my leg as it drops. Why am I here? For the money. In order to see my kid. But as I think of what it would be like, to face my child having done the things I would have had to do, all I can feel is overwhelming shame. The thought of getting  _ caught _ and having to face him….The gun twitches at my side again. “I--”

I don’t get the chance to finish as Spider-Man reaches out in one lightning quick movement and grabs my shoulder. There’s a bright flash of blue that lights up the alley and I feel a sharp flash of pain and convulse, like that one time I was tased by a mall cop for shoplifting. I’m blasted back into the brick wall, and the last thing I see before darkness overtakes my vision is Spider-Man, standing with slumped shoulders and not looking very proud at all.

**oOo**

The next time I wake up, I’m fifteen feet in the air, stuck on a giant web like a fly. Reed is groaning next to me, and our duffels full of cash are just below us, tauntingly close. Taped to my chest is a paper that says,  _ ‘From your Friendly Neighborhood Spider-Man’ _ , in colorful letters that look like they were drawn with crayon. People walking on the busy sidewalk below us are gaping and pointing at the spectacle we make. I see some already on their phone, probably calling the police. I hear sirens in the distance.

I’ll do my time. And after that, I’ll make sure I’ll never, ever see Spider-Man again.


End file.
